Nash Girls: Shortages

The clock on the wall at Frank’s Barbershop showed a quarter past seven when the first group of women from the Nash automobile factory came through the door.
Outside, the evening air had turned cold. Inside, the shop was warm, and the familiar sounds of scissors, hand clippers, and conversation filled the room.
Frank was working in his usual chair. Vivian occupied the middle chair, and Eddie was busy at the third.
Business had changed considerably over the past year.
When Frank first started cutting women’s hair, most of them wanted chin-length bobs. Some wanted their hair just below their ears, while others were willing to have the backs clipped short.
But lately, something different had been happening.
More and more women were asking for full clipper cuts.
Not just the backs of their necks, either.
They wanted the sides clipped, the backs clipped, and sometimes practically everything taken down short enough that they wouldn’t have to bother with their hair for weeks.
It was becoming something of a fashion among the women who worked at Nash, particularly those who spent twelve hours a day around machinery.
And Frank’s Barbershop was becoming known as the place where a woman could get practically any haircut she wanted without being told she ought to look more feminine.
“Evening, ladies,” Frank called as four women entered.
“Evening, Frank,” answered a woman named Mabel, pulling off her coat. “You wouldn’t believe what I had to pay for sugar yesterday.”
Frank looked up from the gentleman whose hair he was trimming.
“How much?”
“That’s the problem. I couldn’t get what I wanted at any price. They told me I could only have a certain amount, and then they wanted to know what I was using it for.”
Eddie laughed.
“What’d you tell them?”
“I told them I intended to eat it!”
The shop erupted in laughter.
“Well,” Vivian said, “they’re trying to make sure there’s enough to go around.”
Mabel shook her head.
“I understand there’s a war on. I understand we’re supposed to conserve. But I work twelve hours a day making automobiles, and when I get home, I’d like to have something decent to eat.”
Another woman, Agnes, removed her hat.
“Try buying coal. My husband spent half of Saturday trying to find somebody who would deliver enough to get us through the cold weather.”
Frank stopped clipping.
“Coal’s going to be a real problem this winter.”
“It already is,” Agnes answered. “And the price keeps going up.”
“Everything keeps going up,” Mabel complained. “Except what we have left in our purses.”
“Well, you ladies are making better money than you were before,” Eddie remarked.
Mabel turned toward him.
“That doesn’t mean we want to hand every penny of it over to the grocer.”
Frank laughed.
“She’s got you there, Eddie.”
A NEW KIND OF HAIRCUT
Vivian finished trimming the woman in her chair and removed the cape.
The customer had come in with a bob that reached the bottom of her ears. She was leaving with the back and sides clipped closely, while the top was cut short enough to comb forward.
She examined herself in the mirror.
“That’s much better.”
Vivian brushed the loose hairs from her shoulders.
“Want me to put a little tonic on it?”
“No, thank you. I don’t need anything else in my hair. That’s the whole point of getting it cut.”
She paid Vivian and walked toward the door.
Mabel watched her leave.
“That’s what I want.”
Vivian looked over.
“The same haircut?”
“Shorter.”
Frank raised his eyebrows.
“Shorter than that?”
Mabel nodded.
“All over. I’m tired of fooling with it.”
Agnes laughed.
“You said that last month.”
“And last month I still had enough hair to fool with.”
Mabel pulled off her hat, revealing a grown-out bob with the back already clipped above the collar.
“I want you to take those hand clippers and go right over my whole head.”
Eddie looked over from his chair.
“You’re going to look like a new recruit.”
“Good. Maybe the Army will feed me better than the grocery store does.”
Everybody laughed again.
Vivian motioned toward her chair.
“Come on, then. Let’s see how brave you really are.”
Mabel sat down and settled beneath the white cape.
Vivian picked up her hand-operated clippers, checked the cutting head, and gave them a few squeezes.
Click. Click. Click.
“How short?”
Mabel looked at herself in the mirror.
“Leave enough that I don’t look completely bald.”
“That’s a pretty broad instruction.”
“Use the longer attachment first. If I don’t like it, you can go shorter.”
Vivian smiled.
“Now you’re thinking like a barber.”
She placed the clippers against the back of Mabel’s neck.
Click-click-click-click.
A strip of brown hair fell onto the cape.
Vivian continued upward, working the clippers by squeezing the handles together with each stroke.
The cutting was slower than it would have been with an electric machine, and it took some strength in the hand, but Vivian had become remarkably good at it.
She worked across the back, then around the right ear.
Mabel watched the hair tumble down.
“That feels wonderful.”
“Wait until winter,” Agnes said. “You’ll be wearing that hat indoors.”
“I already wear a hat indoors half the time. Our house is freezing.”
Vivian moved around to the left side.
Click-click-click-click.
“Keep your head still.”
Mabel straightened.
“Sorry.”
“Now, do you want the top the same length?”
“Yes.”
Vivian paused.
“You’re certain?”
“Vivian, I spend twelve hours a day working around machinery. I don’t need a hairstyle. I need something that stays out of my way.”
Vivian brought the clippers up over the crown.
The last of Mabel’s longer hair began falling onto the cape.
By the time Vivian finished, Mabel had a short, even clipper cut over her entire head.
Vivian cleaned up the edges around the ears and neckline, then brushed away the loose hairs.
Mabel ran a hand across her head.
“Oh, I like that.”
Agnes stared.
“Well, I’ll be.”
“What?”
“You look like you belong in the Army.”
Mabel grinned.
“Then I expect Army rations.”
FRANK NOTICES A TREND
Frank had been watching the haircut with considerable interest.
When Mabel stood up, he called her over.
“Let me see that.”
She walked toward his chair.
Frank examined Vivian’s work.
“Very nice. Clean all the way around.”
“She wanted it the same length,” Vivian explained.
“Nothing wrong with that.”
Frank looked at Mabel.
“Five years ago, you wouldn’t have gotten half the women in Kenosha to sit down for a haircut like that.”
Mabel shrugged.
“Five years ago, I wasn’t working twelve hours a day at Nash.”
“That’s true.”
“And five years ago, I had time to wash my hair, put it up, and fool around with pins.”
Frank nodded.
“Times change.”
Agnes spoke from the waiting chairs.
“You ought to see the women at the factory. There’s a whole group now that have their hair clipped almost as short as the men.”
“Who started that?” Eddie asked.
“Nobody knows. One woman gets it done, then another, and pretty soon half the department is talking about it.”
Vivian smiled.
“Well, it’s certainly been good for business.”
Frank returned to his chair.
“That’s the funny thing. When we started doing these women’s haircuts, I figured it would be a few bobs here and there. Now we’ve got women coming in asking for regular barber cuts.”
“Why shouldn’t we?” Mabel asked.
“No reason at all.”
“And we’re paying customers.”
“That’s the important part,” Frank answered.
THE COST OF LIVING
By eight o’clock, every chair was occupied.
A woman named Ruth sat in Eddie’s chair, having the sides and back clipped close while he shortened the top with scissors.
Agnes had taken Frank’s chair.
She had originally planned to get her chin-length bob trimmed, but after seeing Mabel’s haircut, she had changed her mind.
“Take it above my ears,” she told Frank. “And clip the back up high.”
“How high?”
“High enough that I won’t need another haircut for a while.”
Frank fastened the cape.
“You’re trying to put me out of business.”
Agnes laughed.
“With what you’re charging, I don’t think you’ll starve.”
“With what everything costs, I might.”
That brought the conversation back to the shortages.
Ruth spoke from Eddie’s chair.
“My sister went to Milwaukee last weekend. She said people were complaining about the price of practically everything.”
“That’s everywhere,” Mabel answered.
“And you can’t even get some things.”
“Butter,” Agnes said. “Try getting good butter without paying a fortune.”
“Or flour,” Ruth added.
Frank began working his clippers up the back of Agnes’s head.
Click-click-click.
“Well, the government’s asking everybody to conserve wheat. They’re trying to ship food overseas.”
“I know,” Agnes answered. “And I don’t mind helping. But sometimes I wonder how much more we’re supposed to give up.”
Vivian spoke while sweeping Mabel’s hair into a pile.
“Think about the families over in Europe. They’ve got it a whole lot worse.”
The room grew quieter.
Ruth nodded.
“My brother’s over there.”
“Have you heard from him?” Vivian asked.
“Not for almost a month.”
Eddie stopped cutting for a moment.
“Mail can take a while.”
“I know. But every time somebody knocks on the door, my mother thinks it’s bad news.”
Nobody laughed at that.
Frank continued clipping Agnes’s hair.
After a moment, he said, “Hopefully this war won’t go on much longer.”
“Everybody keeps saying that,” Ruth answered.
“Well, someday somebody’s going to be right.”
ANOTHER WOMAN WANTS THE CLIPPERS
At half past eight, two more women entered.
Both had just finished their shifts at Nash.
One was a younger woman named Florence, who had been coming to Frank’s for several months.
Her hair had once reached halfway down her back.
She had first gotten a chin-length bob, then a shorter bob, and finally a cut with the back clipped close.
Tonight, she wanted something else.
“I want what Mabel got.”
Vivian looked up.
“All over?”
“All over.”
Florence removed her hat.
“I’m tired of having to come in every few weeks to get the back cleaned up.”
Frank laughed.
“You’re all trying to save money by not coming back.”
Florence smiled.
“That’s exactly what we’re doing.”
Eddie shook his head.
“At this rate, we’ll be lucky to see any of you before Christmas.”
“Don’t worry,” Florence answered. “There are plenty of other women at Nash who haven’t worked up the nerve yet.”
Vivian finished with her customer and waved Florence into the middle chair.
“Well, come on. We’ll get you taken care of.”
Florence sat down.
“Same length as Mabel.”
Vivian fastened the cape.
“That seems to be the popular request tonight.”
She picked up her hand clippers.
Click. Click.
Florence smiled at the sound.
“I remember the first time I heard those things behind my head. I thought I was making the biggest mistake of my life.”
“And now?”
“Now I wish I’d done it sooner.”
Vivian started at the nape of her neck.
Click-click-click-click.
Florence’s remaining bob began falling away.
The woman who had accompanied her watched with fascination.
“You really aren’t leaving much.”
“That’s the idea,” Florence answered.
“Doesn’t your husband mind?”
“He likes it.”
“Really?”
Florence laughed.
“He says I spend less time getting ready to go anywhere.”
Vivian continued clipping.
“And what do you think?”
“I think it’s my head.”
Frank chuckled from across the room.
“That’s usually the final word on the subject.”
FRANK’S BUSINESS IS CHANGING
By nine o’clock, Frank had finished Agnes’s haircut.
She had gone from a chin-length bob to a short cut with closely clipped sides and back and only a little length remaining on top.
She examined herself in the mirror.
“I think next time I’ll have you take the top down, too.”
Frank smiled.
“That’s what they all say.”
Agnes paid and joined the other women near the door.
Mabel was still there, talking about the grocery shortages.
“You know what bothers me most?” she asked.
“What?” Florence called from Vivian’s chair.
“We’re all making more money than we used to, and somehow we don’t seem to have any more left over.”
“That’s because everything costs more,” Ruth answered.
“And the government keeps asking us to save this and save that.”
Frank removed his cape from Agnes.
“Well, at least there’s one thing you’re all saving money on.”
“What’s that?”
“Hairpins.”
Everybody laughed.
“And hair ribbons,” Eddie added.
“And hair tonic,” Vivian said.
Mabel ran her hand across her freshly clipped head.
“And time. Don’t forget time.”
Frank nodded.
“That’s probably the biggest thing you’re saving.”
CLOSING TIME
It was approaching ten o’clock when the last customer finally left.
Eddie was sweeping around his chair.
Vivian was cleaning her clippers, removing the loose hairs from between the cutting teeth and wiping the blades before putting them away.
Frank stood near the front window, looking out toward the street.
“Well,” he said, “that was an interesting evening.”
Vivian smiled.
“Busy one.”
“How many full clipper cuts did we do tonight?”
“Three, if you count the one you did before the factory let out.”
“And how many short bobs?”
“Four.”
Frank shook his head.
“I never figured we’d see the day when women were coming in here asking to have practically all their hair clipped off.”
Eddie leaned on his broom.
“You think it’ll last?”
Frank considered the question.
“Some of them will grow it back out. Some won’t. But I don’t think the women working at Nash are going back to spending an hour fixing their hair every morning.”
Vivian nodded.
“Especially if they’re still working those long shifts.”
Frank looked toward the empty chairs.
“And with all these shortages, they’re looking to save money wherever they can.”
Eddie laughed.
“Except they’re spending it here.”
“Once,” Frank answered. “And then they’re not coming back for six weeks.”
Vivian put down her clippers.
“You’re forgetting something.”
“What’s that?”
“Every woman who gets one of these short haircuts goes back to Nash and tells five more women about it.”
Frank smiled.
“That’s true.”
“And half of them come in here wanting the same thing.”
Eddie nodded toward the front window.
“Maybe we ought to put up a sign.”
Frank turned.
“What kind of sign?”
Eddie grinned.
“SAVE ON HAIRPINS. GET IT CLIPPED.”
Vivian burst out laughing.
Frank thought about it for a moment.
“That’s not a bad idea.”
Eddie looked surprised.
“You’re serious?”
“Why not? The whole country’s talking about conserving everything. Maybe we ought to help the women conserve a little time.”
Vivian smiled.
“And a little hair.”
Frank turned off the lights over his chair.
Outside, Kenosha was settling into another cold autumn night.
The war was still being fought overseas. Food and fuel were becoming more expensive. Families worried about sons and brothers serving in France, and nobody knew what the coming winter would bring.
But inside Frank’s Barbershop, one small change was becoming unmistakable.
The women of Nash were no longer simply asking for their long hair to be bobbed.
Increasingly, they were asking for the same practical, closely clipped haircuts that had once been considered strictly men’s styles.
And Frank, who had originally wondered whether women would even sit in his barber chairs, was beginning to realize that the business he had opened for factory men was becoming something quite different.
He picked up the hand clippers from his counter and gave them two squeezes.
Click. Click.
“Well,” he said, “I suppose we’d better keep these sharpened.”
Vivian laughed.
“With the way those Nash girls are going, you’d better.”

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